


Unfinished Music

by SegaBarrett



Category: Empire (TV 2015)
Genre: Ghost Rhonda, Journey, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, weird stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 05:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: Jamal decides to walk away from his old life.





	Unfinished Music

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Empire and I make no money from this.
> 
> A/N: Title is from a series of two John Lennon/Yoko Ono albums.

There’s a kind of shattering, a humming in the air, when things fall apart.

If Jamal had been outside it, he would have wanted to capture it on a recorder, place it on a new single.

But he wasn’t outside it. He was at the center of it, not in the eye of the storm but in the wreckage.

He had tried to leave before – leave America for England, leave his father’s house to run into a little apartment. But he had never succeeded.

Not until now, at least. 

He had seen a show once on public television, in the middle of the night, called The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin. The man had gotten fed up with his life in the corporate world and had decided to fake his own death, leaving his clothes by the side of a river and then starting anew with a whole new name.

It was late, and he was standing in front of the beach at Coney Island, watching the waves silently. 

The trouble had been that Reginald Perrin had decided that one day he wanted to come back. 

Jamal was never coming back. Not once he made this choice.

He looked in the mirror at the white coat he was wearing; distinctive enough. He had worn it in one of his most recent videos. He pulled it off and set it by a rock, watching as the river flew up to touch it just for a second and then recede. 

He sighed. He’d have to walk to where he was going, maybe get a bus ticket – pay in cash, stay anonymous, start fresh. (Doing what? He had been a performer for his whole life, bred to be one, sculpted into one for as long as he knew what it meant.)

Jamal turned and began to walk.

“Bad idea.”

Jamal whirled around to see an ephemeral image hovering before him – that of Rhonda, the way she had looked the day she had gone over the edge of the building.

“Uh… Rhonda?” he asked.

“That’s right. Nice to see you, Jamal. Why are you acting like an idiot?”

Jamal snorted.

“You’re a ghost. You can’t really be standing here talking to me, trying to give me some advice right now. You don’t know what the last week has been like, or, hell, what the last twenty-seven years have been like.” He reached into his pocket and found himself fingering three dollar coins. Dollar-dollar bill y’all, indeed, he thought.

“I do. You seem to forget that I was there.”

“You weren’t there all the time. I remember a lot of things.”

***

_Andre was sitting on a chair on the porch, scowling as he flipped through the book in his hand._

_“What are you reading, anyway?” Jamal asked. Andre was the smart old; he had always been the smart one. And now he had come home from Penn, only for a weekend, clutching books and holding himself that little bit higher, and Jamal couldn’t help but feel as if he had already lost him in a way._

_“The Brothers Karamazov,” Andre told him. Jamal craned forward. He was good in school, but no one would ever say he had a mind like Andre’s, one of those ones that always seemed to be running at full speed and computing every figure, figuring out the meaning of life and every complexity that had ever been devised. “It’s about a father… and his sons. I see a lot of us in them.”_

_“Oh?” Jamal ventured._

_“There’s Ivan. The middle son. Bright and sharp. Tormented. He goes insane by the end. That would be me,” Andre mused. Jamal watched as he traced the cover – watercolor paintings of three young men – and didn’t look at him. “Dmitri is the hothead. Never thinks. Only acts. He falls in love with the same woman as his father. That’s what Hakeem is going to be like.”_

_“And me?”_

_“You would be Alyosha. The one who is all heart. Who goes by faith and is willing to suffer for everyone else.”_

_“That doesn’t sound like a very fun life, Andre.”_

_“Yeah, but he was the one who was supposed to have another book all to his own. This was only meant to be a prequel.”_

***

“Maybe I’ll just walk into the waves,” Jamal mused, staring at Rhonda and no longer concerned that he was talking to a ghost. “I could toss these in… Make a wish, right? Make a wish for all of them and if I sacrifice myself… maybe that’s what it needs to come true. Three coins… make a wish. Into a fountain. Wasn’t that what we always said would happen?” He was shivering. It wasn’t supposed to be that cold out. 

“What would you wish for?” Rhonda asked. It sounded like she was trying to keep amusement out of her voice.

“For Kai to be cured, first.”

“So a clean bill of health. No more HIV?”

“Exactly.”

“Done. Clean bill of health, no HIV, and Jamal lying dead at the bottom of the river. A great life he has ahead of him. Throw the coin in.”  
Jamal glared at Rhonda and, as if to spite her, flicked the coin towards the water. 

“You know that isn’t fair,” he told her. 

“What else would you wish?”

“For Andre and Hakeem to finally find love. Again, for Andre,” he added quickly.

“No offense taken. So Andre and Hakeem find love. You didn’t seem to have noticed that Hakeem already has.” 

Jamal cocked his head to the side.

“Tiana? But they fight all the time and can’t keep it together for more than five minutes.”

“I’m not talking about her. You haven’t noticed the way that Hakeem and Blake are always together?”

***

_“Hakeem? Are you in there?”_

_The sound of knocking on the door, then the creak of it opening._

_Hakeem stood in the doorway, his shirt off and wearing a pair of shorts that were rolled up at the sides._

_“What is it, Blake? I don’t have time right now. Jamal’s still missing and…”_

_Blake stepped into the room and wrapped his arms around Hakeem, pressing a kiss to his cheek._

_“You know I’m here for you, bro.”_

***

“Wait, wait, wait – what?” Jamal stared at Rhonda. “You have to be kidding me. First of all, where did that even come from? Hakeem isn’t even gay and – well, Blake?”  
It did, suddenly, somehow make an odd sort of sense, however. They did spend a lot of time together, with the pretense that they were “bros” always fighting over Tiana.  
Then again, it had been a long time since he had had a real heart to heart with Hakeem. When he had come back from London, it had been as if a gulf had developed between them, one that Jamal was unable to cross.

It wasn’t the way they used to be.

***

_“Ice skating? Really?” Hakeem complained, hand on his hips and groaning. “This is some real corny stuff, Dre, just to get out of having to actually hang out with us.”_

_“I have a date. You two have fun. This is what the Penn guys do for fun.”_

_“Ah, yes, Penn, very fancy. Oh, Chaucey, will you bring around the limousine?” Jamal teased._

_“Get out of here with that. I’ll be back at eight.”_

_With that, Andre disappeared into the crowd and Jamal and Hakeem were left in a lily-white line of waiting ice-skaters who were sipping lattes as they got ready._

_“Ice skating? Really? This is so gay,” Hakeem complaining, ignoring the way that Jamal flinched at the word. “I guess we should do it, though, given Andre is our ride and all.”  
Jamal pulled his sneakers off and tried to balance himself, half-on and half-off the spongy rubber floor. _

_“I’m going to fall on my ass,” Hakeem continued, “This is so stupid.” He steadied himself at the entrance, stepping out on to the ice._

_He stumbled for a moment, but only for a moment, before he began to glide. Jamal’s mouth slipped open slightly. For Hakeem, it was effortlessly._

_Jamal fell eight times and bit his tongue twice before he made his way back to the bench._

_Hakeem came over a few minutes later with the skates still on, limbs slumped over as he looked at Jamal._

_“Is there something you’re gonna tell me, Mal?”_

_“Like what?” Jamal asked, trying to catch his breath._

_“Like that you’re gay.”_

_Jamal looked up and stared at him, stumbling over his words._

_“Listen, Keem, I don’t know what you’ve heard…”_

_“I haven’t heard nothing from nobody. I just know, okay? And I don’t really care. If Dad doesn’t like it, well then… that’s his problem.”_

_Jamal beamed down at his younger brother. He didn’t know if that conversation would go as well with Andre, but he could only hope._

_“I didn’t know you were so good at ice skating,” he told Hakeem after a long moment._

_“Yeah well, don’t get used to it. It’s sissy.”_

***

“You’ll be leaving Hakeem behind,” Rhonda said, needlessly. It wasn’t as if Jamal didn’t know that, after all. He just wanted him to be happy, and Andre too. 

But Hakeem was angry, and Andre was sad, all the time.

And Jamal didn’t know what he was. Listless, scared.

“Kai’s gone,” he spoke up again. “If he was cured… he wouldn’t have to settle for someone like me. He could go out and see anyone he wanted. He wouldn’t have to worry about anything. I’d give him that.” Jamal nodded. “Better him than me.”

“So what’s your plan then, Jamal? Just vanish off into the ether and live a new life?”

“I could do it.”

“In this day and age? No credit cards, no internet? They could track you everywhere you went, otherwise.”

“There are people who live off the grid. I could do it.”

“Out in the woods? Catching squirrels and eating mushrooms?”

“I don’t think I would want to hurt a squirrel,” Jamal mused. “Maybe just… like, a cabin. I could find plants… Or just move around. Become a drifter.”

“Very dramatic, Jamal. Very… you.”

“You know what, Rhonda? You aren’t even alive, so I wish you would shut up.”

Jamal took a step forward. He’d wade into the water and melt away, letting it overtake him. Hadn’t that been in a book he had read, once? When he’d been a high schooler trying to be smart like Andre.

But he wasn’t the smart one, or even the cute one – for all of Hakeem’s tantrums, he had undeniable charm. He was the broken one. The one who had gotten put in a trash can.

Maybe it was time to put himself on the curb. He started laughing hysterically at that mental image.

“Listen, Rhonda… I appreciate the opinions… but I’m going to do it. I have to get out of here.”

He would escape being a Lyon if it was the last thing he ever did.

Jamal held his nose and ducked his head. 

He would sail away.

***

“Are you awake? I think he’s awake!”

Jamal’s eyes opened slowly, one first and then the other. There was a woman staring down at him, with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and circular glasses. 

He started to slide into a sitting position, wincing as he felt his sides aching. 

“What happened?” he slurred, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Don’t try to move,” the woman cautioned. “They’re coming to take you to the hospital. It’s going to be okay.”

“To the hospital?” Jamal asked. “What happened?”

“You tell us!”

It wasn’t until now that he saw the other part of “us”, a young man with black hair and blue eyes.

“You were fished out of the bay,” the woman explained. “How did you end up in there? Were you trying to… do something bad?” She hesitated, looking him up and down. Jamal began to shiver. 

“No,” he said quickly; he didn’t really remember what he had been trying to do. It had been a big show of… of something? What had that been? “I don’t want to go to the hospital.” That would spread all over the place and everyone would be talking about it, #JamalSailsAway or something like that. “I’m really fine.” He slowly pulled himself to his feet and looked around. The area around him looked very flat, and it did not look recognizable as anywhere he had been in New York. How far had he gone and where had he ended up? “Where am I?”

“You’re in a safe place,” the woman said. “You should really stay until the ambulance gets here.”

A man walked over, and Jamal looked him up and down; although his eyesight was a bit blurry due to… what was it again? Whatever he had been doing in the water… The man was hard to ignore. He had dark skin and big brown eyes, short curly hair and a gaze that seemed to look right through Jamal, seemed to know everything about him at once. 

Jamal wasn’t sure whether to take off running or to stay there and let him scan him. 

“Who are you?” the newcomer asked, and Jamal watched as he ran a finger over his own nose, eyes not looking away from Jamal’s. It was as if he knew everything that Jamal had done and ever will do.

He felt very naked, suddenly, and had to look down to ensure himself that he was indeed wearing clothes. They were soaked and ruined, yes, but they were there. That would have made the situation even more awkward.

He couldn’t tell them his real name, of course. But his brain was too fuzzy to try to think one up on the fly. 

“Amaru Seale,” he blurted. 

The man smiled. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Mal.”

“Do you have a last name?”

Mal smiled.

“Yes, but I’m not going to tell you what it is. You’ll have to get to know me for yourself…” he paused and cocked his head, smiling. “…Amaru. Why don’t we go back to my place so we can get you out of those wet things?”

And Jamal decided that was what he wanted more than anything else in the world.

***

“You can step right back there and change into these clothes… They’re new, I haven’t sweated all over them or anything.” Mal chuckled.

Jamal chuckled, too, feeling oddly free and easy for a man on the run. He stepped into the bathroom and let his feet touch the cold tile, flinching slightly. 

How long had he been floating in the water? And where even was this place? It had been such an impulsive act, but it had seemed like the only way to be free. To wash it all away, all of the Lyon madness. 

Maybe Mal just liked him for the little bit of him that he had seen, for once. 

Water. He stripped off his wet clothes and let them fall into a pile at the corner of the bathroom. It seemed too messy for him, for the old him at least. But he wasn’t… him anymore. He couldn’t allow himself to be.

He turned on the faucet and stepped inside, allowing the hot water to run over him. There was a lot that he needed to wash away, a lot he needed to kill of Jamal Lyon.

What was his plan? He needed to come up with one, but his mind was blank. 

Were people looking for him back home? Maybe they hadn’t even noticed yet. Was that what he wanted? To finally be forgotten, like he had never existed in the first place? Hadn’t there been days when he was sure that Luscious wished he never had a second son at all? Now, he had that long-forgotten wish.

He would have to go out and face Mal eventually. Mal, that was interesting. The way his name was spelled was like Jamal’s own nickname.

Maybe he had really found himself, after all.

What a weird thought. Maybe he was the one who had gone crazy, at the end of the day, looking into mirrors and laughing hysterically at his own reflection. 

He pulled on the new clothes and examined himself in the mirror. I knew who I was this morning, he mused, but I’ve changed a few times since then.

He opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway. Almost as soon as his foot pressed against the carpet, Mal appeared, smiling widely.

“You’re looking much better, aren’t you?” Mal declared. He didn’t give much time for Jamal to reply, but he offered his hand instead. “Come sit with me.”

It sounded oddly inviting, if a little creepy.

He followed, walking over to a chair that Mal pulled out. He crouched down and took a seat. It was a long table, wooden, not as fancy as the one in Luscious’ home, but clean and smooth. There was a bowl of fruit in the center.

“Do you live alone?” Jamal inquired. 

“Yes. I’ve been… waiting, I suppose. This is a very quiet town, and I’ve never found the right person… Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, though.”  
Jamal smiled and shook his head slightly.

“You only just met me and you’re talking as if you’re in love with me.” He wanted to say, You don’t even know me.

“I know people,” Mal said simply. “And I like what I see in you.”

Jamal leaned in with a sigh. Mal might have liked what he saw, but Jamal also liked what he heard. It was too easy to sink into the words, to forget about Cai and his family and what had come before.

Mal reached out and pressed his hand against Jamal’s face. 

Jamal’s heart quickened. He shouldn’t be here. There was something wrong about this whole thing. How had he gotten here again? He couldn’t remember.

“Mal… Wait.”

Jamal shut his eyes. Everything was blurry.

“Jamal. You can’t run away from it.”

It was like Rhonda’s breath was in his ear, as if she was so real, all over again. He’d never really thought about what that was like; she had been here, and then she had been gone.  
Was that what Kai felt now, what Andre and Hakeem felt?

Did Luscious feel as if his son had slipped from out of his fingers? Would he begin to forget what Jamal looked like, sounded like? Or would he be real for him, a pain in his heart?

Jamal stood up.

There’s no place like home.

He let his eyes slip shut. 

And then he was gasping for air in the middle of a lake.

He pushed down, shooting up, his head popping up through the crest. He sputtered, watering shooting out of his mouth as he hacked and heaved.

He was exhausted. He should fight, he should swim – he’d been a good swimmer, spending his summers at the pool into the evenings as soon as they had the money for it; that was an odd thing to think about now. Now that he was about to drown in the middle of… somewhere.

“Jamal!”

The voice had to be in his head. He couldn’t be hearing it, really.

It sounded so much like Andre, though… he had been sure that he had forgotten the sound of Andre’s voice. Of Hakeem’s. Of Luscious’. Kai.

He was going back under.

A hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him upwards.

Part of him wanted to fight it, to pull back, to go back under. It was so blue in there, so serene. So quiet. No confusing things to figure out in there, nothing to run away from. Only the feeling of floating, forever and ever.

“Jamal,” he heard whispered in his ear. Kai’s arms were around him and everything was suddenly right.

It hit him that he didn’t remember most of what had happened to him, or how he had gotten back home, or why his clothes were soaking wet all over again and his fingers smelled like seawater.

Jamal Lyon was home, and there was a peace in the world.

And that would have to be the start. Everything else could come later.


End file.
